The Dance
by cmr2014
Summary: Set between "Quick Draw" and "Escape From Pain". The first step in going to a dance is asking the person you want to go with.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

**The Dance**

"A dance?" Meryl repeated.

"Yeah!" her partner Milly said enthusiastically. "The money from the quick-draw contest and Neal's dad coming back have kept the restaurant from going under, and the town is holding a dance to celebrate. Doesn't that sound great?"

Meryl leaned back against the wall of her room – her tall partner had no idea how much space she could take up when she got excited. "Well, yes, that sounds nice, but if they have the money for a dance, it would have been nicer if they'd given the money to Neal's mom in the first place."

Milly's joy didn't dampen a bit at Meryl's practicality. "It sounds like it'll be loads of fun. Everybody's going! Mr. Vash even asked if he could take me, but Mr. Wolfwood had already asked, so I had to turn him down."

Meryl's mouth quirked. "Vash asked you?"

"Yeah." Her partner grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of her head. "He said he didn't know anyone else who would be fun to go with, and seemed really disappointed to have to go by himself. I felt kind of bad for him."

Didn't know anyone else who would be fun to go with?

_Why, that little – _

"Maybe he could go with you!"

Meryl slapped on a bland expression. "No, I don't think I'll be going. I have paperwork to catch up on, and a few chores to take care of. I'm sure everyone else will do more than enough partying to make up for me not being there." _Especially Vash, that overindulgent, flirtatious louse._

Vash the Stampede in person was nothing like his reputation. He ate donuts like they were the only food, drank too much, and flirted with anything in a skirt.

Except Meryl. But that was fine, because she had absolutely no desire to be flirted with by that man. He annoyed her to no end.

"But Meryl –"

"I'll be fine, Milly. I can have plenty of fun without making a public spectacle of myself. You enjoy the dance for me, ok?"

Milly was still uncertain; she had really hoped Meryl would go to the dance so they could all have fun. "But Meryl –"

"That's the end of it, Milly," Meryl declared. Defeated, her friend left the room to have some tea downstairs.

Meryl felt bad for having to shut Milly down like that. She didn't like having to draw a hard line. But in a group that was made up of her, Milly, Vash the Stampede, and now somehow a priest that didn't act like a priest, someone had to be the serious one.

She sighed as she got ready to clean and oil her derringers for the night. It wasn't like she _didn't_ want to have fun. But she'd feel awkward being at a dance by herself. Nothing at a dance hurt worse than not having a dance partner.

There was a knock at the door. She picked up a loaded derringer and aimed at the approximate torso level on the door. "Who is it?"

"It's Vash. May I come in?"

Oh, jeez. It was only the twit. She set the derringer back down. "No!"

"Please may I come in? I need to talk with you about something!"

Good grief, did that man ever take a hint? Still…it _was_ odd that he was being polite. Most of the time, he treated her either like she wasn't there or casually, making offhanded comments that were borderline insults. On the other hand, when they were alone he actually was very decent.

"Fine," she called. "Come in!"

The door opened and Vash the Stampede stepped in. Many people had seen the fearsome side of him, as she had. Few ever saw the jerk that she knew him to be.

"Is it ok if I close the door?" he asked. There was a hint of nervousness to his voice.

Meryl thought about it. He'd never been anything but rude or indifferent to her before – ok, sometimes he had been nice, but never really friendly the way he was with most people. She certainly had no fear he'd try any of his moves on _her_. And she was more than willing to call him on his stupid crap.

"Yeah, go ahead." She waved in annoyance, and he shut the door, crossing over to sit down on the floor in front of her, making no attempt to get too close.

"I wanted to ask you…well, you know…you've heard there's going to be a dance, right?"

She nodded warily.

"I was wondering…" He cleared his throat. "Would you like to…maybe go with me? To the dance?"

"Ah, I see what this is about," she said. A confused look came on his face. "Milly turned you down, so now you're resorting to the second-stringer."

"What? No!" Vash waved his hands in front of him like her accusation was a curse he was warding off. "It's not like that –"

She slapped him, leaving an angry red handprint. "Well, you can forget it, Vash! I wasn't going anyway, but even if I were, Meryl Stryfe is nobody's backup choice!" She raised her hand again

"Hey!" Vash grabbed her hand, taking it in both of his and gently bringing it down in front of him. "There's a big misunderstanding here. I didn't ask Milly to go with me, I made some small talk and asked if she was going. Then Wolfwood butted in, thumped his chest, and said, 'Yeah, with me!' like some big thomas's ass. Before he jumped in, I had been going to ask if you were going."

A faint pink began to color Meryl's cheeks. "Why would you care if I was going?"

"Because I don't really know anyone else in town that well –" she started to purse her lips for a harsh retort "– and because…well, I've never been to an actual dance before, and…Milly said you could dance, and I don't want my first dance to be by myself, and…I think you'd be nice to dance with."

Everything after not knowing anyone in town well was mumbled, but Meryl could make it out. The pink began to be a real blush.

"You've never been to a real dance?"

He shook his head. "No. Back on – back home, there were some get-togethers, but they didn't feel like anything organized. Or anything I was wanted at." He frowned and looked away. She chose to leave her questions about his past alone…for now.

"Have you ever danced before?" she asked.

"Well, Re – my…mother, she taught me and Kni – my brother some dances. It's been a long time, but I still can waltz. Something called swing, which was really fun. Jive, and jig. Oh, and tango, I can do the tango."

A brief image of dancing the tango with Vash flitted through Meryl's head, which she then shook to clear it. The height difference would make it look ridiculous.

"So…will you be my first ever dance date?"

She sighed with feigned aggravation. "I'm a professional. I don't date on company time – and every second with you is company time. So this wouldn't be a date. But…yes, you may take me to the dance."

Vash brought his fist down in triumph. "Yes! My first dance! Thank you!" He jumped up in excitement, then leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before running out and down the hall, yelling in joy.

"Just don't step on my feet, you broom-headed buffoon!" she called after him.

She touched the spot where he'd kissed her. It was a simple peck on the cheek. Guys had done that before. So why did this one leave her warm all over?

Meryl went back to cleaning and oiling her derringers, humming softly. Maybe it wouldn't hurt anything to think of this as a date, after all.

The image of her dancing the tango with Vash came back. It didn't seem so ridiculous this time.


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am a welder, not a fashion expert. Please excuse any ignorance and/or idiocy you may find in my description of how the characters are dressed/colors/etc. I did the best I could.

"I'm really glad you decided to go, Meryl!" Milly exclaimed happily. It was the night of the dance, and she was dressed to the nines in a kelly green dress with ruffles from waist to the hemline that went down almost to the heel of her mid-calf light brown boots, and puffed mid-arm sleeves with small gemstone-adorned ruffles. The neckline was not deep, but neither so high up that there wasn't a fair hint of what was underneath the soft material.

The dress belonged to the saloon owner's wife, who was close in size to Milly and had been more than happy to make the small alterations needed. "Anything for that nice young preacher's girl," she had said, causing Milly to laugh and Meryl to roll her eyes.

_Nice young preacher, my foot._

Meryl, on the other hand, had chosen to buy her dress. She couldn't put her finger on why, but she wanted to look good, and she just wouldn't have felt comfortable wearing someone else's dress.

So she had looked around for things in her price range, not really finding anything that felt right to her – until she laid eyes on a thin-strap lavender number that was form-fitting yet modest, slightly ruffled in the legs where Milly's was very ruffled, with enough room that she could move loosely. This was actually to allow for dances that required a lot of leg movement, but Meryl appreciated more keenly that it would allow her to jump into action if needed.

This dress was what she wanted. A look at the price tag, however, showed it to be far out of her price range. She had sighed, accepted the reality of her situation, and gone to look elsewhere. Having no luck in her search, she had returned to her room, prepared to simply reject the idea of having a nice dress of her own – only to find the lavender gown she'd had her heart set on laid out carefully on her bed, ready for wear. With it were a pair of white boots with royal purple trim that, upon trying them on, she found were comfortable enough to dance in yet built sturdily enough that she could run or fight in them if she had to.

Meryl had spent a few minutes to squeal in joy before settling down and wondering who had given her such a gift. Upon interrogation, Milly sternly denied any involvement in the matter – "I don't have any money, Meryl, I sent mine to my family and used what I had left to buy you some pudding for after the dance. It's important to refuel after dancing, you know. Oh! I wanted that to be a surprise dessert for you!"

Wolfwood had said, "It wouldn't have occurred to me." Jerk.

She automatically discounted Vash. Any money he had went toward donuts and drink. She didn't even know how he stayed in ammunition for his six-gun.

In the end, Meryl decided she would continue her investigation into the mystery donor later, and enjoy the dress now.

She couldn't help but smile at Milly's enthusiasm. "Well, if you're glad, then I'm glad you're glad. And I guess everyone needs a night off now and again."

Meryl _did_ look pretty good in the mirror. Her hair could never be styled the way Milly's was, in long beautiful locks, but she had freshly shampooed and brushed it, and added some scented styling spray to emphasize her bangs. Not too shabby, for a self-done job.

"And I'll bet Mr. Vash is going to drop dead when he sees you!"

Meryl rolled her eyes. "He will not, Milly. He's just interested in experiencing his first real dance. I don't even know why I got dressed up for the silly thing."

"I think I do," Milly sang.

And on that note… "Milly, I just saw Mr. Wolfwood go running by. You'd better hurry and catch him. You know it's bad form to show up at a dance separately."

"Oh!" Milly bolted out, closing the door behind her. Meryl could hear her calling, "Wait for me, Mr. Priest!"

Worked every time.

Meryl finished putting on her makeup in the mirror. A little bit of blush, a touch of lipstick – mascara? No. Eye shadow? No. She'd keep it basic. No need to go overboard.

A knock at the door took her attention from the mirror.

"Who is it?"

"Me, Vash. Is it ok if I come in?"

"Just a minute," she called at him. She did a last-minute check in the mirror – why? She didn't care how she looked to him. – and went to the door.

He nearly took her breath away. His hair was still styled the same way, which was to be expected; but instead of the red coat and rough boots, he was sporting clean and pressed khaki jeans, a light brown leather vest, and a starched white shirt with a black bolo tie and turquoise slide. Polished dress boots and gentleman's gloves completed the look. On anyone else, the outfit wouldn't have caught any eyes. Vash somehow made it look dashing.

"Wow," she managed.

He grinned. "Wow."

Meryl gathered her wits from wherever they had gone. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be at the dance already."

"No way. I told you, I don't want to be there with no one to dance with. Besides, right now, I don't think I'd rather be anyplace else."

She expected some sort of lecherous innuendo, or leer – anything she was used to from a guy. But his eyes stayed on hers.

He really meant it.

He held out his hand. "So may I have the honor of escorting you to the dance?"

Meryl couldn't help but smile as she slid her hand into his. "You may."

She understood why he was excited about this. It was his first real, organized dance. She, however, had been to several in her time, and never found them to be that big of a deal. So why, then, as they walked together, was _her_ heart beginning to pound with anticipation?


	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

Lyrics from "Danced with the Prettiest Girl", written by Eric Hisaw

In spite of the fact that she had agreed to come to the dance solely for Vash's benefit, Meryl found herself enjoying this "get-down shindig," as one townperson had called it. Part of it, she supposed, was simply that she was badly in need of some de-stressing. The other part of it was that Vash turned out to be a really good dancer.

They danced a very lovely waltz together. She was surprised to see this graceful side of Vash the Stampede, a man who was usually only graceful during a shootout.

Some silliness ensued when she tried to teach him about line dancing, and more silliness when the music picked up and he tried to teach her how to swing dance. Wolfwood and Milly were a hit of the dance floor – despite the fact that Wolfwood's dancing was more like a conglomeration of seizure-like movements – and by the time Meryl took a break for some water, it seemed the whole town was enjoying itself.

She was waiting for her water and looking around at the dancing couples when she heard some of the town's most glamorous women talking between themselves.

"Who's the plain jane with Vashie?"

"I don't know. She must be rich or something, though. Why else would Vashie have gone with her instead of one of us?"

"She can't be _that_ rich. Did you see her? It looks like she couldn't even afford a stylist."

More inane chatter about the mystery woman who was Vash the Stampede's dance date, followed by giggling and implications about her moral character.

Her self-confidence was high. She was a professional representative of the Bernardelli Insurance Society, well-respected among her friends and colleagues, and had survived many dangerous situations that would cause these women to wail like banshees.

Still, underneath her thick skin, she felt the hurt behind the words. Meryl knew she had never been pretty, not like these women. They probably looked gorgeous even without their makeup. Her success was hard-won, never helped by being one of the "beautiful people". Their remarks tugged at long-dead feelings from when she wished guys would look at her the way they looked at the pretty girls.

Her water came, and she drank, blocking out the rest of what the other women had to say.

Unknown to her, Vash had been watching. His super-sharp hearing had heard the conversation, and he had seen Meryl's reaction. Her back to him, she didn't see as he made his way to the band leader. Didn't see the whispered conversation, nor the money that changed hands.

She did feel his tap on her shoulder. Turned around and saw his hand extended toward her in gentlemanly fashion. "May I have the pleasure of this dance, my lady?"

From the corner of her eye, she saw the jealous looks of the gossiping women, and decided one little dig at them wouldn't hurt anything. She accepted his hand and said loud enough for them to hear, "You may, good sir."

Vash led Meryl out to the center of the dance floor as the guitar player began to strum. Then the rest of the band joined in, and the singer began a baritone-rich rendition of a song about a lonely wanderer who was blessed to share a night of dancing with "the prettiest girl".

It went straight to Meryl's heart, and she knew that, somehow, this was Vash's doing. "What do you –"

"Quiet," he whispered in her ear. "Just enjoy the song."

Everything and everyone melted away as they glided across the floor, and she found her head nestling against his chest as they moved. Professionalism be damned, Meryl found herself hoping they would never stop dancing.

Vash murmured along with the last verse of the song, so only she could hear him,

"Well I'm still hungry and cold

Back out on the road

But now I'm on top of the world

'Cause I danced with the prettiest girl

More precious than diamonds or pearls…"

He tilted her head up so he was looking right in her eyes.

"…Yes, I danced with the prettiest girl."

He gave her one chaste kiss, barely touching her lips, and her heart fluttered.

"Let's go for a walk," he suggested. At that point, she would have said yes if he'd asked her to tie-dye her work clothes.

They left the dance and walked to the edge of town, where the moon and stars were the only light. Meryl allowed Vash to chivalrously lay out his vest so she could sit on a rock. He sat next to her, and they looked at the night sky together. He put his arm around her to keep her warm, and she snuggled close.

They were silent for a time, until she could stand it no longer. "You set this all up, didn't you?"

"What? No, the dance was entirely put on by the town."

"Not the dance, broom-head." She smacked his arm lightly. "Why did you buy this dress for me? And how did you afford it? How did you even know?"

Vash chuckled. "Milly mentioned it. I always have some spare money with me; never know when you'll need donuts. And Wolfwood loaned me some cash. I should probably get around to telling him I borrowed it."

Meryl looked up at him. "But why?"

He looked back at her. "Because you deserve to have something pretty. Look, I put you girls through hell, and I have my reasons for not wanting you around – but that doesn't mean I don't like you. You're aggravating, persistent, short-tempered, and far too pushy – and I wouldn't change anything about you, because you're also very kind, caring, and honorable. I've actually kind of fall – gotten used to having you around."

"This was supposed to be about you, though. Your first dance."

He smiled at her. "That's right. It is about me. Which means I can make it about you if I want. I've had a lot of fun at this dance, and most of it is because I've been dancing with you."

Meryl snorted. "You could have had the same fun dancing with anyone else."

"Not true. There's not a woman on the planet quite like you, and I knew that from the moment I set eyes on you tonight. Dancing with anyone else would not have been dancing with you. That makes all the difference."

She placed a hand on his chest, trying to feel if his heart was beating as fast as hers. "And why?"

"Why what?"

"Why would you want to make it all about me? Why would you pick that last song?"

His eyes locked directly on hers. "Because I saw you didn't feel pretty. So I chose a song that said exactly what I thought of you. And for the rest of your life, whenever you see one of those glam girls all dolled up, you can look back on tonight and know that to me, you _are _the prettiest girl."

She smacked his arm again. "You should try acting like it."

His hand brushed back some of her hair, sending its strawberry scent wafting through the breeze. "I put on an act. Until certain things in my life are taken care of, I really can't stop. But tonight's my night to hit pause."

Meryl put a finger against his mouth. "This can't go past tonight," she said, the regret clear in her voice. "You're company time."

Vash took her hand and kissed it gently. "It won't. But you won't always be an insurance agent, and I won't always be the Humanoid Typhoon. Someday we'll just be Vash and Meryl, and we'll pick up where tonight leaves off."

She smiled, cupping his face. "I look forward to that."

He kissed her. She kissed back. As they spent the night sharing many more kisses, she reveled in the knowledge that, to Vash the Stampede, she was the prettiest girl.


End file.
